by B. B. Hamel
We were in love. I was head over fucking heels for him, despite everything.
Maybe one day. Or maybe one day we’d have a real wedding, not some fake one that we didn’t even know was real.
“Well, what did you get me?”
He showed me the flowers and the cake. They had spelled my name wrong. “How do you misspelled ‘Alexa’?” Dad grumbled, but it was still incredible.
Cole had no problem moving out to Chicago with me. Even though the center of his fighting life had been California, he was able to work in any major city because of his growing popularity. He was working on an undefeated record of 15-0, and we were more than comfortable financially because of it.
My job was more of a dream. I never knew what I had wanted to do up until I found the posting on a job site, and I just had to have it then and there. Cole wrote me an uncharacteristically sincere recommendation letter and supported me through the whole process.
Not to mention he uprooted his life and followed me out to an entirely new city.
“Well, let’s celebrate,” Cole said, popping open a champagne bottle.
“Here’s to Alexa,” Dad said. “And to you, Cole. May you guys have as much happiness as you both deserve.”
I smiled. “Thanks, Dad.” We clinked glasses and drank.
The day wound down that way as we sat around and chatted, catching up. Eventually Dad got tired and decided to head back to his hotel room. We promised we’d see him tomorrow and watched him climb into the cab.
When he was gone, I collapsed onto the couch, right into Cole’s arms.
“Long day?” he asked.
“Yeah, long day. And when did my dad get here?”
“About an hour before you got home.”
“How was that?”
Cole shrugged, kissing my neck. “Not bad. I didn’t tell him that we spend most our time fucking these days.”
“Cole,” I said, giggling. “Cut it out.”
“You know it’s true,” he whispered in my ear.
“So what?” I turned and looked at him. He smiled, and I felt myself sigh, my head dizzy, light and free. I kissed him gently on the lips.
“I love you, dickhead,” I said.
“I love you too, wife.”
I laughed and kissed him harder, pressing my body against his.
Maybe not many relationships began with a marriage. Maybe even fewer began as stepsiblings. But I wouldn’t have traded what we had for anything in the world.
Because every day I was with Cole felt better than the last.
As I let myself get lost in his body, I knew things were going to work out.
He was my husband. Maybe it was just a legal thing, but that was meaning more and more. Because of him, I’d had the strength to go after my news job, to move across the country for it. He made me stronger, more likely to live in the moment.
And he did other things for me. Things I definitely wasn’t telling my dad about.
Cole the fighter, my man. I was going to last with him, one way or another, from now to always.